Love Springs Eternal (The Beacon Hill Sorcerer Book 5) Read online

  Love Springs Eternal

  The Beacon Hill Sorcerer Book Five

  SJ Himes

  Copyright © 2021 by SJ Himes

  LOVE SPRINGS ETERNAL

  Beacon Hill Sorcerer Book Five

  All rights reserved.

  Edited by Alyson Roy of Royal Editing Services

  Cover by Kelley York

  Sleepy Fox Studio

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  If you are reading a pirated version or a copy of this ebook that you did not purchase yourself, or was not gifted/loaned to you through allowable and legal means, then please keep in mind that you have effectively stolen this ebook.

  Please purchase your own copy, and remember to review.

  Content Advisory: Mentions of past sexual assault and rape. No flashbacks of assault. Gore, violence.

  SJ Himes

  www.sjhimes.com

  Contents

  Author’s Note

  Prologue

  Dawn of the World

  1. When the Storm Comes Ashore

  2. Storm Surge

  3. Storm Anchor

  4. Tenderly

  5. Enshrined

  6. Dinner Date

  7. Visitation Hours

  8. The Watchers

  9. Dinner-Hour Shenanigans

  10. Something Wicked This Way Comes

  11. Morning After

  12. Demolition

  13. The Temple of Gemini

  14. Feeling Alive

  15. Family Meeting

  16. A Cantankerous Dragon

  17. Villainous Expectations

  18. Provoking the Monster

  19. Afterglow

  20. An Eternity in Waiting

  21. Two Halves

  22. Aftermath

  23. Apprentice No More

  24. The Salvatore Clan

  25. When Storms Collide

  26. Vows and Honor

  27. Awakening

  28. Honeymoon

  Epilogue

  What the Future Holds

  Also by SJ Himes

  Author Bio

  Author’s Note

  While I’ve long maintained that Angel Salvatore is my self-insert character, Daniel Macavoy reflects a painful part of my history.

  Sexual assault is a horrible experience and the aftermath is uniquely horrible as well.

  As I’ve mentioned previously in the series, there is no one perfect universal intersectionality of life experiences. The same goes for fictional characters. Daniel’s journey is rather unique—instead of it taking place solely within his own book, his journey toward recovery began the second Angel saved his life and took him in, way back in Book One. I tried to keep Daniel true to himself while also drawing on my own experiences in showing how life returns after a traumatic experience. It’s not perfect. He’s not magically healed. And neither am I.

  This book is not about sexual assault. It is about living life, and finding hope and joy. Finding faith in yourself and what you can do. And love. Above all things, this book is about love.

  Hecate’s Blessings,

  Sheena Jolie (SJ)

  Resources:

  HRC: https://www.hrc.org/resources/sexual-assault-and-the-lgbt-community

  RAINN: https://www.rainn.org/

  Dedication

  “I have loved to the point of madness;

  that which is called madness,

  that which to me, is the only sensible way to love.”

  ― Françoise Sagan

  For those of us who were never blessed with the easy path to love.

  Prologue

  Dawn of the World

  Pre-Human Civilization

  Isle of the Children of Danu

  The strange craft bobbed awkwardly on the waves, and the creatures on board scurried around, shouting in rough words, sounding both angry and scared. The craft was at some distance still, though the immortal eyes of the sidhe saw them clearly from a great distance before their odd shouts ever reached the cliffs.

  “What do you think they are, brother?” The twin who spoke was playing in the strong headwinds along the top of the cliffs, arms lifted, wondering whether if he tried hard enough, he might grow wings and join the birds.

  The other twin played in the grass and flowers, a bee crawling from his fingers onto a bright blue flower, buzzing happily. He lifted his gaze from his tiny friend and peered down at the beach, squinting against the bright summer sun. “Mother said they are children of the earth, like us. She said one day they would call themselves human, but now they just call themselves the people. The wind told her they were coming.”

  Which was why they were on the cliffs overlooking the rocky shoreline below, out of sight of the newcomers, and the elders who awaited them on the beach.

  “Humans.” The adventurous twin tried out the new word. He threw himself into the grass beside his brother and sighed, already bored. “I don’t know what a human is.”

  “I don’t either,” said the other twin, returning his attention to the bee happily drunk on nectar and pollen. “Mother will tell us soon enough.”

  “I wonder if they like to have fun.” The restless twin sat up quickly, long green hair indistinguishable from the grass. “Maybe they have younglings we can play with!”

  “Like the wolves? The mother wolf won’t let us play with them yet, they are too little.” The gentler twin pouted, wishing the wolf understood promises to be careful, but her mind saw them as puppies, too, and she was wary of grasping fingers with newborn cubs. Her teeth were sharp and quick to correct overly curious and bored younglings.

  His brother jumped to his feet and ran to the edge of the cliff, hand blocking the bright sun. “They stand like we do, though they fall and stumble a lot. If we play with them, we might need to be careful. Maybe they’re younglings, too?”

  The other twin stood and carefully stepped around the bee and its flower, joining his brother. The strange craft was nearing the shore at last, coming in exactly where Mother told the elders it would, and she was never wrong. The beings on the wooden craft were scrambling around, making excited gestures and doing things to the vessel that made it move faster. The poor things were being tossed about by the waves and one was nearly lost overboard into the sea, needing others to drag it back from the edge. “Why do they struggle? Do they not know how to calm the waves?”

  An elder far below did just that, lifting a hand outward to the sea, and the waters gave a great sigh and momentarily eased their struggle against the earth. The beings on the rough wooden craft shouted and managed to land their vessel with a grind over the stony beach.

  “They are short,” observed one twin as the new beings disembarked and then dragged their craft higher up on the beach. The elders watched from the grassy hillside just above the sand line of the beach. The humans seemed to be wary, keeping their distance, though their gazes strayed to the elders frequently.

  “They don’t speak our words,” said the other, catching a few sounds on the wind. “I wonder what they are saying.”

  “Perhaps we should cease speculating and go ask them,” said their mother, her tone rich with amusement.

  The twins spun guiltily, identical expressions of dismay on their equally identical faces. Though their mother could tell them apart as easily as she could see the future. Her sons’ natures were as different as could be, the soul shared between them the only thing they had in common besides their bodies.

  “Mother! We aren’t on the beach,” said her more precocious son.

  “I’m sorry we disobeyed you,” added the gentler of the twins.

  “You aren’t in trouble, my loves,” Danu said with a soft smile, holding out her hands. Each son took one and clung tightly. “Come, let us go greet the new children of the earth. They are still young yet, much like you, and have much to learn.”

  “Do they like to play?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Do they like puppies?” asked the other twin, thinking of the wolves.

  “I think they love puppies more than you,” she teased with a smile. “In fact, they have with them a new creature, a gentler wolf than the ones we know here on our island.”

  Both boys gasped and tugged on her hands, pulling her toward the beach and the new children of the earth. So many possibilities lay ahead, and they were too excited to see the dangers that came with the good tidings. They were both children, though, and they had more than enough time to learn to be wary of humans.

  A Very Long Time Later

  “Mother?” Ruairí held the heavy screen of vines to the side, peering into the cave his mother used as a private retreat. The grotto was well-lit with torches; the pool at her feet was crystal clear and a thin stream of water fell from the ceiling of the cave into the pool, sending ripples of light over the stone walls.

  “Come in, my son.”

  Ruairí stepped inside and let the vines drop behind him, cloaking the cave in shadows and tor
chlight. Danu held out her hand, and Ruairí took it, sitting beside his mother on the stone bench. Their silence was companionable, and Ruairí idly wondered what his mother saw in the waters at their feet. She saw more than even he could comprehend—she listened to the waters, the winds, the whispers of the earth, the elements answering to her call, the plants and animals of the earth responding to her touch and wishes with joyful harmony and mutual respect. Danu was the mother of their people—he and Cian merely the last of her younglings to reach adulthood, and he treasured the childhood he spent under her loving care.

  He peeked at his mother, and she caught him looking, a teasing smile on her face. Ruairí laughed, ducking his head. She chuckled, leaning into his shoulder. “My sweet child. I will miss you.”

  He shouldn’t be surprised that she knew that he and Cian were leaving, but he was. “You know?”

  “I saw you leaving the day you were born.” Danu gestured to the pool at their feet. “In the waters of life, I held you both in my arms, and I saw your lives stretched out before you, in all their pain and glory.”

  He knew better than to ask about his future. She was quite strict about meddling with the flow of time, but occasionally she would let something slip. “Not too much pain, I hope.”

  He tried not to sound so young, but feared he failed when she squeezed his hand.

  “Pain is unavoidable, my son. It is a part of living. If you feel pain, you still live.” She lifted her free hand and caressed his cheek, meeting his eyes. “Be kind, be true, hold tight to your honor, and above all things, love. Love life, your brother, your friends and family, your people, and all the children of earth. Do this, and in the unfolding of a future beyond even your dreams, you’ll come out the other side of the longest night and find a love that will be unmatched in all things.”

  Hope burst in his heart, and he smiled, relieved. “And Cian?”

  Danu dropped her hand, and gazed into the pool for a long, pensive moment. When she spoke, her tone was no less loving, but a shiver of fear raced up his spine at her words. “Cian, my honed blade. His path remains interlocked with yours, as it should be. Love him and guide him, protect and treasure him, and he may yet be waiting for you when you awake from your longest night. His path is bloodier than yours, and he may lose his way for a time, but his future holds the potential for love as well. It is less certain for him, and he may not wish for love from his future, content to remain at your side. Be prepared for this, my son. Do you have the will and the strength to be the heart your brother does not yet possess?”

  “As he is the ruthless blade of our soul, I shall be his heart, forever balanced,” Ruairí swore.

  Danu stood, tugging him to his feet. She kissed his cheek with a tender smile. “Then you both will defeat the passage of time and come out stronger for it. Of that, I have no doubt.” She motioned for him to go ahead of her. “Now, let me reassure my other son. He didn’t need to hide outside while you informed me of your plans to wander.”

  Ruairí chuckled, hearing Cian grumble outside the grotto. He was excited to see what their future held, even if it wasn’t all joy and glory. He would gladly accept the pain if it meant his reward was a love unmatched. He had patience. He would wait, and hope.

  1

  When the Storm Comes Ashore

  Present Day

  The wind was fierce, cold and lashing as it cut away at the shore, the tide rising to crest high on the beach, the sea-grass laden dunes soaked, the rich greens dampened to black. Summer skies choked to an early twilight, the horizon a dark smear of clouds and walls of rain, the roar of water and wind a deep rumble he felt through the soles of his thin leather shoes.

  Lightning sparked in the far distance, hitting the surface of the ocean, illuminating crests of ink-black waves before darkness swallowed the horizon again. The wind carried hints of ozone and salt, and Ruairí Brennan breathed deeply, closing his eyes. Wind caught his long hair, twirling the strands across his face.

  “Change is coming,” his companion murmured. A voice he knew better than the sound of his own heartbeat. Rory opened his eyes and looked to his brother, his twin.

  Cian tipped his head back, his long hair tied with a simple leather thong at the nape of his neck, the tail of moss-green hair fluttering out behind him in the wind. Cian breathed in the ocean air, not at all deterred by the storm in the far distance, inching ever closer. Cian thrived with each inhalation, and Rory reached out, and Cian joined their hands, lacing their fingers. He squeezed, and Cian tightened his grip.

  “Change is the only constant,” Rory said, looking back out to sea. Cian hummed softly in agreement that ended in a forlorn sigh.

  “Aside from us,” Cian whispered, and Rory silently concurred.

  “The bars that hold you will not be there forever,” Rory promised, and Cian turned into him. Rory put his head on his twin’s shoulder, Cian doing the same, hands catching and holding each other. Rory breathed in the presence of one he held so dear and mourned the twist of fate that struck him down that long-ago day on a bright spring morning under a cloudless sky. If the sword had not been so true in its strike, Cian would not have been left adrift for so long, without Rory to anchor his mind and heart. And so much would be different.

  “Do not mourn what could have been,” Cian whispered. “That way lies naught but madness.”

  Rory couldn’t help the tiny smile that curled his lips. “After all these centuries, you’re still fond of the Bard?”

  “He wasn’t boring,” Cian replied, and pressed a kiss to Rory’s temple before stepping back. “The guards are coming soon, and they become rude when I don’t respond to their foolish questions.”

  Rory frowned. “Are they mistreating you?”

  “There is nothing human men can do to me that I would consider mistreatment,” Cian’s mouth quirked up in a wry grin. “This irks them further.”

  “Don’t antagonize your jailers, brother,” Rory chided. “They can still make your life a misery. Never doubt the ingenuity of humans for their cruelties.”

  “They come,” Cian released their joined hands and stepped away. Cian tilted his head, and his eyes grew cloudy. “And another comes to see you, brother.” He dipped his chin in farewell. “Until tomorrow.”

  A burst of wind tore at the crest of the grassy dune, and Cian was gone, a crackle of silver-white sparks torn away by the storm. Rory felt his brother reawaken in the prison far from where he stood on the shore of the sea, catching a hint of a snide exchange between Cian and his mortal guards before letting his brother’s presence fade into the recesses of his mind.

  He cast out his senses—Cian was right. Another was coming to see him, and the seagrass and wind-battered elms that grew along the property line of the Salvatore estate whispered of panic and worry, the mortal practitioner energies a swirling, energetic, blue with soft undertones of green, and a quick flash of silver, like fish striking beneath the waves.

  “Daniel,” Rory breathed out, and he sprinted down the side of the dune and into the trees, heading for the mortal that held not a small portion of his heart and soul.

  “Angel, I’m watching the weather reports on my phone, and the wards are up,” Daniel said to his mentor while holding the phone between his ear and shoulder while struggling to unpack his suitcase. Giving up on multitasking after he nearly dropped the phone, he pulled it from his ear and put it on Speaker. Daniel tossed the phone on the bed and then dumped his duffel bag out across the bed, figuring he’d need to refold it all anyway.